Ça a commencé par une discussion à propos des points de Damien Hirst et ça a continué autour d’une citation.
It has begun by a gamme about Damien Hirst and it went on around a quote,« I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who would jump through the open window by my bed in the middle of the night and land on my chest. I’d half awaken. He’d stick his skull under my nose and purr, stinking of urine and blood. Some nights he kneaded my bare chest, powerfully, arching his back, as if sharpening his claws, or pummeling a mother for milk. And some mornings I’d wake in daylight to find my body covered with paw prints in blood; I looked as though I’d been painted with roses. » Opening paragraph of annie dillard’s pilgrim at tinker creek.